


Time Does Not Bring Relief

by Triskellion



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abortion, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Kirk senses something wrong between his first officer and his head communcations officer.  Will his meddling help out or make things far worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Does Not Bring Relief

Title: Time Does Not Bring Relief  
Author: [](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/profile)[**triskellion**](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/)  
Pairing(s): Spock/Uhura with possible shades of Spock/Kirk pre-slash  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 6610  
Disclaimer: It belongs to Gene Roddenberry first, Paramount second, and me not at all.  
Summary: Captain Kirk senses something wrong between his first officer and his head communcations officer. Will his meddling help out or make things far worse?  
Notes/Warnings: This is based mostly on [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/1886.html?thread=3438174#t3438174) from [](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/), with a smidge of [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/1886.html?thread=2948958#t294895).

Something was wrong. Jim Kirk could almost smell it. For the past two weeks, his Bridge crew had been off somehow, and the disturbance was centered around Lieutenant Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura.

He had stayed out of their relationship, despite the regs. They had seemed so happy together, or as happy as any Vulcan could seem, emotionally repressed as they were, and never been less than perfectly circumspect on duty. He could almost wish all his officers were so efficient, except he liked to have a little fun.

However, the last two weeks had not been normal. While their behavior was as formal and proper as ever, they also weren't interacting. There had always been a few pointed looks, a brushing touch as they passed, stuff you'd only catch if you knew what to look for. Yet, now it was all gone. And somehow it changed the entire atmosphere of working on the Bridge for everyone.

Jim tried talking to Spock first. They weren't as close as he would like, but friendship took time and he'd certainly made more progress with Spock than Uhura. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for the bar fight five years ago. Apparently, saving the planet wasn't quite enough to settle that grudge.

Since Spock had been avoiding public spaces when off duty for, oh, two weeks, Jim bearded the bear in his den, or rather, the Vulcan in his quarters.

Spock answered when Jim hit the chime, but from his expression he was not pleased to have company. Jim knew his first officer well enough to recognize that look of disgusted frustration, even on a Vulcan's face, possibly because he triggered it so often.

“What do you require, Captain?”

Jim leaned against the wall by the door when it was clear Spock wasn't going to offer him a seat. “Something's wrong with you and Uhura,” he said, figuring a straight forward fellow like Spock would appreciating him getting straight to the point.

“We do not require your assistance in this matter, Captain,” Spock replied flatly.

“Jim, Spock,” Jim corrected. “I'm here as your friend, not as your captain.”

“As friend or captain, your assistance is not required,” Spock reiterated, then turned and walked into his bathroom.

When Spock didn't reappear for more than five minutes, Jim final conceded defeat. For now.

The female of the species may be more deadly than the male, but the human female is far easier to read than the Vulcan male. He'd try confronting Uhura next.

Conveniently, he saw her stepping into the turbo lift at the end of the corridor. By running full tilt, he managed to slip between the doors before they shut. “Lieutenant Uhura,” he said, trying not to show just how winded he was. Maybe Bones was right about him needing to spend more time in the gym. “I would like a word with you.”

“How may I be of assistance, Captain?” Uhura asked, sounding far too much like Spock for Jim's comfort just at the moment.

Reaching out, Jim hit the button to pause the lift before answering. “I'm not here as your captain,” he said clearly. “And I don't want to be. I respect your relationship with Spock and how you've never let it interfere with your duty in any way. Until now.”

Uhura crossed her arms and glared at him. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“I want to know what is going on, to try and help you to sort things out before it gets to the point that I have to step in as captain. Please, as a friend, can I help?” he pleaded.

“Have you asked Spock?” she asked dryly.

Jim sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “But that green blooded hobgoblin wouldn't talk. Not yet.”

Uhura looked troubled, and inwardly Jim crowed at the sign of success. “I am concerned about him,” she admitted softly.

“What happened?” Jim asked, careful not to sound like he was implying it was anyone's fault.

Biting her lip, her crossed arms became more of a self hug as her glare faded fully into an inward looking look of concern. “We … I'm not sure what went wrong. We tried to move on to the next step in our relationship ...”

Jim watched her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “Sex?”

Uhura flushed, her cheeks reddening through her chocolate skin. “I should never have said anything to you,” she said quickly.

“Nyota, this is in complete confidence,” he assured her quickly. “I swear.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “You have become more responsible of late,” she admitted.

“And a damn lot of hard work it's been,” he said teasingly.

That got him a smile. It was wan and faint, but it was there. “Complete confidence?”

“Promise,” he said, nodding.

She stared at him in silence a little longer, but finally continued. “Yes, sex. I know you may think us horribly slow … two years in and we've never ...”

Jim shook his head, his lips quirked slightly. “I'd expect nothing less with a Vulcan.”

She looked surprised.

“Hey,” he protested playfully. “I've been known to do my research sometimes … when I'm interested. And what interests me more than sex?”

“You've researched Vulcan mating customs?” she asked dryly, but it was a more upbeat tone all the same.

Jim chuckled. “Vulcan, Orian, Altairan, Klingon,” he listed. “You name it, I've checked. It's always nice to know what races are safe to hit on and which ones'll hit back. Bones' jokes aside, I'm not out to pick up every type of crotch rot in the galaxy or get into a fight in at least one bar on every planet.”

That actually got him a faint chuckle. “That's … somewhat comforting to know.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, nervously. “So you know how Vulcan's view sex.”

“It's rather sacred, practically only during marriage, or something equivalent,” Jim replied. “They're known to bond rather tightly with their lovers.”

Uhura nodded, but her eyes stayed on the floor. “How much do you know about Vulcan telepathy?”

Jim was glad she wasn't looking at him right now, or she would have noticed the blood drain from his cheeks. Thinking about the mind meld on Delta Vega still did that to him. As beautiful as some of the things that slipped through that day had been, the overarching memory was of such pain and sorrow that he still ached whenever he thought of it. “A fair amount,” he settled for saying.

“I love him,” Uhura whispered. “But I can't … when he tries to meld with me I just … run. We've tried, several times. We've managed to just have sex twice. It's wonderful. But he won't stop trying to meld and I just can't let him.”

Jim felt like he had to pick his jaw off the floor. As much as the memory of his first, and last, meld still hurt, he'd never run from repeating the experience. That momentary feeling of oneness, of not being alone even in the far reaches of his own mind, was so incredible, so perfect. So often his life had been empty, alone, because his mother left, because he'd driven the other kids off, because his ego had learned to push others away before they ran off anyway. He knew he could easily become addicted to not being lonely, which is why he'd never dared ask the elder Spock for a repeat. Better to savor the memory and move on.

Wow, was that Jim Kirk making a mature decision?

“Is there possibly a past experience?” Jim asked gently.

Uhura fought back a sob, her hands clenched in tight fists against her collar. “I … when I was young a man came to our village. He was a story teller, a wanderer, or so he said. He spoke so many languages. While he stayed, I spent so much time with him. I wanted to learn everything he knew. But one day … he was so skilled with languages because he was a telepath.”

“That's rare in a human,” Jim said, unable to keep his mouth shut as much as he knew he needed to let Uhura finish her story.

“Very,” Uhura said in a pained tone. “It turned out, he was a pedophile. He told stories to get close to the children, and when he found the one he wanted ...”

Jim couldn't leave her alone, standing there in such pain. He touched her shoulder lightly, and suddenly found himself with an arm full of Uhura, her face pressed into his shoulder. “He didn't just rape the body,” she said through tears. “He dug into my mind.”

Running his hands up and down her back, Jim made soothing sounds and held her gently until the worst of the sobbing stopped. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I didn't mean to drag up such memories.”

“It was near the top anyway,” she admitted, shaking her head but still leaning into him.

“Because of Spock,” Jim said, and she nodded. “Have you told him this?”

“I … I tried,” she admitted. “He said he understood.”

“You thought you could move past it,” he said, trying to understand how she had gotten herself into this mess. What could she have been thinking, with a trauma like that, trying to date a telepathic species? Specifically, a species that bonds telepathically with their mates?

“Yes,” she whispered. “I've been through therapy, training, everything Starfleet can throw at me. I thought I could handle it.”

Jim didn't know what to say, or even if there was the slightest thing he could say. There were no words to express his sorrow at her experience. But, at the same time, he wanted to shake her silly for what she was doing to Spock. The Vulcan had to be tearing himself apart for causing her such pain.

“Come,” he finally said, reaching out a hand to reset the destination on the turbo lift. “Let me take you to Medical. Bones'll give you something to help you sleep.”

She pulled away, brushing tears from her eyes. “No, I can't,” she protested. “I'm on Alpha shift on the Bridge, and I have a department meeting ...”

Jim cut her off. “You need to rest. I just dragged a dark memory out and you weren't ready. I'm sorry. And Bones will kick my ass if I let you work looking like that. Please, for my sake, take some time and rest. Meetings can be rescheduled.”

He got a wan smile, but it was limp even in comparison to earlier. Damn, he'd really messed up this time. But, she let him lead her to Sickbay, and Bones knocked her out on a bed in the corner with a pointed glare at Jim but no questions. Then.

“What happened?” Bones demanded once he dragged Jim into his office.

“I asked some questions with some pretty heavy answers,” Jim replied, not trying to sound mysterious but succeeding anyway.

“That doesn't exactly tell me much,” Bones grumbled.

“Sorry,” Jim said, collapsing into a chair. “It's private and she'd probably skin me if I told. Except it's probably somewhere in her medical file if you dig far enough ...”

Bones nodded. He'd look later.

“She just needs a rest,” Jim assured him.

“Humph. I'll give her a check up when she comes to, just in case. She looks like she's been running herself a bit ragged lately.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” Jim said. “Might drag Spock in for one too, just in case.”

“So there is something wrong between those two,” Bones said in a speculative tone.

“Hush, you old gossip,” Jim sniped jokingly. But he couldn't maintain that level of confidence for long in the face of what he'd just learned. “Let's just say I've got a bad feeling about the longevity of that relationship,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“It's already lasted two years,” Bones countered.

“Research Vulcan marriage while you're poking around the data banks,” Jim suggested, then hauled himself to his feet. “I have to be on the Bridge.”

“Thirty minutes ago, if I recall the schedule right,” Bone snarked.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Jim countered. “Let me know if there's anything I should worry about when you finish those checkups.”

Bones looked at him closely. “As a captain, or as a friend?”

“Both,” Jim suggested, walking out.

~o0o~

Jim didn't hear anything further on the great relationship debacle until Bones dropped into the chair across from him at dinner.

“I don't know how you put up with that on the Bridge day in and day out,” Bones snarked, stealing a chunk of fruit from Jim's plate.

“Oh?” Jim asked dryly.

“Spock and Uhura,” Bones drawled. “They're like a couple of asteroids orbiting for a crash, except when they're running away from each other.”

“You checked them out at the same time?” Jim asked worriedly.

“There was overlap. My mistake.” Bones stole another chunk of fruit, and Jim just pushed the plate towards his friend. He wasn't hungry anymore.

“Did the checkups show anything?” Jim asked worriedly.

Bones shook his head. “You know I can't discuss medical information unless it influences the operation of the ship.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, or tried to, imitating Spock, if poorly. “And does it influence the operation of the ship?”

“Spock is in perfect health,” Bones replied blandly. “I've given Uhura twenty-four hours down time for various factors ...”

“You read her file?” Jim whispered.

Nodding, Bones said, “And did some research into Vulcans. What was she thinking chasing a Vulcan with something like that in her past?”

“Trying to prove she was more than the sum of her traumas?” Jim offered.

Bones snorted. “You'd know. Well, I'm afraid … you may have a transfer request coming soon. From one or the other.”

Jim didn't like the sound of that. “I don't suppose you're going to give me anything more specific?”

Bones just shook his head. “Can't.”

~o0o~

If anything, the atmosphere on the Bridge was even more awkward than before when Uhura got off her medical leave. Spock had been tense the day before, but the air around him became positively icy once he caught sight of Uhura. The yeomen gave him nervous looks the entire time they were on the bridge, as though they thought he would snap any moment. The rest of the Bridge crew didn't look much more comfortable, though most of them hid it a bit better.

Jim kept a close eye on both of them from the minute they arrived until they both clocked out, staying on the Bridge well beyond his official duty shift, though that wasn't unheard of. Jim loved being on the Bridge, watching over his ship. Today, however, he was distracted with concern about his people.

He still had no idea what exactly had made Spock's mood even worse until Uhura showed up at his quarters at the beginning of Gamma shift. He welcomed her, escorted her to the couch, and like a proper gentleman even offered her a drink.

She refused. “I ... I'm sorry for intruding, Captain.”

“Jim, please,” Jim offered, claiming the armchair. “Unless this is official business.”

“No,” Uhura said, shaking her head sharply. “No, this is ... I wanted to tell you ... so you can be there for Spock. I know you're really his closest friend.”

“How can I help?” Jim asked worriedly.

“You were right,” Uhura said sadly. “I was hurting both of us. It was stupid, illogical. I should have never let it go this far.”

“You thought you could handle it,” Jim said reassuringly, though deep down he didn't really believe that.

“Somehow I had hoped that he could be with me without the meld, but I see now I was tearing him apart. And now ... damn. I don't know if I've done the right thing or just made it worse.”

Jim stifled the urge to say something, either supportive or ask a question, but it was hard. He both wanted to help her and wanted to shake her. He was fond of Uhura, but Spock was ... well, precious. Maybe it was the other Spock's words and thoughts influencing him, but this Spock, his Spock, meant a lot to Jim.

“My birth control implant failed,” Uhura said after another moment of silence.

That statement took a minute to process. Bones had said he did a checkup, and then gave Uhura time off. “You're pregnant?” Jim squeaked inelegantly.

“I was pregnant,” Uhura corrected, her eyes wet with tears. “It had been less than two weeks. We weren't going to stay together. And how would I explain it to Starfleet?” She looked at him, desperate for his approval.

It all clicked. She'd killed Spock's child. Whether it was the logical choice or not, Spock was seeing one less Vulcan child born, seeing his child lost. And, if Jim remembered correctly, Vulcans were very attached to their children. There was a very good reason for Spock's bad attitude today.

“For the sake of another child with Vulcan blood, we probably could have found a way.” He couldn't stop himself from saying it, but he regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Uhura's eyes dropped, filled with sadness and regret.

But when she looked back up, she was angry. “And who would have raised such a child? There's no place for children on a starship.”

“Spock has family on the colony,” Jim pointed out. “They would have been proud ...”

“Damn it,” she snapped, standing up and stalking for the door.

Jim sprang up and caught her by the shoulder. “Wait. Please, Nyota. I don't want to hurt you. You made the choice that seemed right to you. But you have to accept you may not have thought of everything.”

“I just wanted to do the right thing,” she protested but let Jim pull her into his arms.

“I know,” he assured her. “You did what you thought was right for you.” He stroked her hair, holding her as she cried.

He let her cry herself out and then tucked her into his bed when exhaustion took over. He certainly wasn't going to sleep right now. Brain whirling at a mile a minute, Jim changed to a clean shirt and stepped into the corridor. He looked both ways, trying to choose a destination. Should he speak to Spock? Uhura seemed to think so. But now?

Bones somehow seemed a better idea, so he turned the other way and headed for the doctor's quarters.

“Who told you?” Bones asked as soon as he got a look at Jim's face.

“Uhura,” Jim answered, collapsing into one of the comfortable chairs crammed into Bones small, interior quarters. They were tiny, and there weren't any windows, but that made the doctor happy so Jim put up with it. At least Bones always found a place to stash the booze, as represented by the glass placed in Jim's hand by the quick thinking doctor.

“Talked to Spock yet?” Bones asked, collapsing into another chair with his own drink.

“Not sure what to say,” Jim admitted. “I wish I'd never talked to her in the first place now.”

“Not your fault,” Bones said insistently. “If I hadn't ended up overlapping both of them on my schedule, I wouldn't have left her alone with the nurse when she found out. By the time I got back, it was already over.”

“Not your fault,” Jim parroted. Bones just snorted. “What the hell do we do now?”

“Tell him we understand and try to be there for him,” Bones suggested. “If that green blooded hobgoblin unbends enough to admit he's upset.”

“He's upset, whether he admits it or not,” Jim said. “You didn't have to spend the day on the Bridge being frozen out by those two.”

“How illogical,” Bones said slyly.

Jim sighed and knocked back his drink in one long gulp, ignoring Bones' look of disgust at the action – real Earth bourbon shouldn't be treated like that. “I'll talk to him tomorrow,” Jim muttered, looking at the bottom of his glass until Bones refilled it. “I think I'd rather limit myself to one emotion wrenching conversation per day.”

“You going back to your room tonight?” Bones asked as Jim slouched further into his chair.

“Uhura's in my bed,” Jim said, shooting his friend a plaintive look.

“Oh, cut it with the puppy dog eyes,” Bones grumped. “You could always crash in her room since she stole yours.”

“That would be as likely to get me injured as crashing next to her in my bed,” Jim pointed out.

Bones sighed. “Fine, you can crash here.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

~o0o~

Jim did crash with Bones, sacking out on the too small couch crammed in the too small quarters. Bones had long ago learned the lesson of not letting James Kirk, human octopus, share a bed with him, no matter how platonically. Jim didn't blame him. It was hard enough being friends with someone as emotionally needy as he was, no need to push even further for cuddling. That's what the girls he slept with were for.

Happy thoughts of old experiences with Bones sustained him through the return to his quarters – now empty – to clean up and change, and the trip to the Bridge. However, as soon as he stepped into the ice cold atmosphere of the Bridge, all he could remember was what Uhura told him the night before. Looking at Spock, he could almost see the pain and loss in those normally blank eyes. The last time Jim could sense that much emotion from Spock, he'd been sprawled across the Enterprise helm with those eyes staring down as Spock tried to choke the life from him.

Rather than be chucked out of Spock's quarters or trying to chase him down at dinner, Jim quietly asked Spock to join him in Observation Deck Four after dinner. That left him all day to consider what he was going to say, for all the good the time did him.

When he arrived he still didn't have a clue and could only stand silently in the doorway, watching Spock staring out at the stars.

“You wished to speak with me, sir?” Spock finally said when it became clear Jim was frozen, but he did not turn around.

“Jim,” Jim corrected. “I'm not here as your captain.”

This time Spock did turn around, looking at Jim with a faint hint of curiosity. “What do you wish to discuss, Jim?”

Jim let out a sigh and stepped closer. “Uhura told me what happened … what she did,” he said softly.

Spock didn't react, not at a level that most humans could observe. Below that level, however, there was a faint tightening around his eyes, a slight stiffening of his shoulders. Jim wanted to hug his friend, to offer some human level of comfort, but he knew better than to think it would be accepted.

“There is nothing to discuss,” Spock said darkly, turning back to the starry view in the window.

Jim stepped up to his first officer's shoulder and clasped his hands at the small of his back. “No, nothing to discuss,” he agreed, emphasizing the last word. “But I can say I'm sorry, that I understand.”

“How could you understand?” Spock growled, twitching until his shoulder bumped against Jim's.

Sighing sadly, Jim closed his eyes for a moment as his memory fell back to those dark days. “When I was seventeen, a girl I'd gone out with told me she'd had an abortion, that it had been my child,” he admitted, dragging the words out to tell the story he had never before shared. “I don't know for sure that it was mine, she'd slept around even when we were together. I don't know for sure she was ever pregnant. But when she told me that she hadn't even thought twice before making the decision, that she didn't want the kid and she knew a loser like me would never be able to raise one ...”

“She should not have said that,” Spock said softly when Jim trailed off.

Letting out a sad chuckle, Jim continued. “Perhaps she was right, perhaps not, but I'll never know now. For one instant I thought just maybe I'd have a chance to prove myself as worthy, except it had already been taken away. I decided if I was just a loser, then I'd be the best loser out there. I chucked my plans for college, got drunk, and burned the bar I'd met her at down. That was the first time I went to prison. I'd always gotten probation or community service before.”

“It was a rather extreme emotional reaction,” Spock said blandly, but Jim thought he seemed a bit calmer now.

“It was. It was a damned fool thing to do,” Jim agreed. “I can see that now. But … that moment, losing a child I'd never known of, it changed me a lot. I only slept with men for the next two years, and never again trusted when a woman said she was protected.”

Jim wasn't sure what else to say, and this time Spock didn't have a comment, so Jim just stared outside. Out there were the stars, galaxies and worlds and wonders that a boy trapped in dusty Iowa could never imagine. And now he would see it, not just see it but lead the crew of the Federation flagship to boldly go where no one had gone before. Even in the days he considered college he had never dreamed of such things.

“Why did you tell me this story?” Spock finally asked, shifting on his feet again until he bumped against Jim's shoulder.

Leaning lightly back, Jim brushed Spock's shoulder in return. “Humans have a saying, that sorrow shared is sorrow halved. I thought maybe knowing that I understood would help you some.”

“I understand your sentiment,” Spock said, “but I am Vulcan. Sentiment is not necessary.”

“You may wish to believe you have no emotions,” Jim countered, “but I have seen otherwise. You grieve, just as humans do. I see no reason not to believe the same techniques may not sooth.”

“You may believe what you wish,” Spock said stiffly and turned to leave.

“Spock,” Jim called after him. Spock paused in the doorway. “I'll still be here if you change your mind … or you just want some company looking at the stars.”

Jim didn't quite know how to interpret the expression on Spock's face before he turned and kept walking, but he hoped it meant he'd made a positive impression.

~o0o~

It was several months before Spock brought the subject up again. This wasn't to say there weren't subtle hints that he was still thinking about it. The interactions between Uhura and Spock thawed but never reached the relaxed level of their interactions with the rest of the crew. And if Spock and Jim tended to find themselves in one of the observation decks between shifts, just watching the stars, well, that didn't have to mean anything, but it probably did.

Jim was just happy he could be there for Spock, even a little bit. Bones offered his own subtle support when they crossed paths on the Bridge or in Sickbay after a bad mission, but the rest of the crew seemed to remain fairly oblivious to the whole situation. It was a minor miracle, given how good the gossip grapevine usually was, but Bones must have put the fear of God into that nurse to keep her from talking.

Jim and Spock were in Observation Deck Four that evening, staring down at Aquila III. They had just beamed up an hour before after two days spent trying to negotiate assistance in dealing with a rather nasty plague, a plague that was killing young children first. Bones was still in Sickbay, finalizing plans to replicate the cure he'd developed, but the command staff were now at loose ends.

Standing at the window, Jim wasn't really looking at the planet, beautiful as it was in the light of its star. He was seeing dying children in the sick wards below, the grieving parents who had begged the star travelers for assistance whenever they were spotted in their Starfleet uniforms. So many people he couldn't help, because they had arrived too late, or because the government was hemming and hawing about allowing offworlders to interfere. Too many lives lost for the wrong reasons.

Some days he hated his job.

“How do you survive?”

Spock's voice cut through the silence, even as soft as the words were. Jim turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in question as his blue eyes caught brown ones.

“Losing a child, how do you adapt? You have survived the experience, and all the natives of Aquila III who are now facing that … I do not understand now to transmute that grief. I heard several families already talking about having another child.”

“It seems too soon,” Jim agreed, turning back to the window, and this time focusing on the swirl of greens and blues below. “But societies where the loss of a child is more common often use that method for sublimating their grief … or so my psych classes back in the Academy hinted.”

“Having another child is not an option for me now.”

Jim was amazed. Spock, always so Vulcanly stoic, sounded almost heartbroken for a moment. “No, not unless you join the Colony, I suppose.”

“I do not wish to leave the Enterprise.”

“I hope you won't.” Jim let out a dry chuckle. “I'm spoiled rotten with the best crew in the fleet, and I don't want to let any of you go.”

“How did you cope?”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Jim admitted, “Poorly. At first, I did everything wrong. But, in time, even grief fades.”

“Mine has not.”

Jim turned to Spock again, taking in the lost expression and pain filled eyes. “It's only been a few months,” he pointed out. “And you've experienced a lot of loss recently.” He wanted to kick himself for bringing up Spock's people, his mother, but it was a good point. “After something like that, even smaller losses seem bigger, dragging up old pain.”

“That does seem … somewhat logical,” Spock conceded.

“It doesn't have to be logical. It's emotional. But it is true.”

“You provide more insight than any other I have spoken with.”

“Who else have you asked?” Jim had to admit to himself that he was quite curious just who Spock had trusted with this matter. He hadn't trusted Jim himself, or Bones. They'd found out other ways. Who else did his first officer talk with?

“My father. It seemed right that I should inform him of what our family had lost,” Spock said stiffly.

“Makes sense to me,” Jim said, trying for a light tone. “Wasn't much help though?”

“My father has not experienced such a loss, though he is still struggling to rediscover his logic after the loss of my mother. He suggested humans might have had more experience dealing with such things … I have never before considered the human path when it comes to emotions.”

“You ...” Jim stuttered to a stop, not quite sure where he was trying to go. “Humans have found that sharing helps sometimes. Talking about what hurts. I guess that's why Nyota told me, so that I could be there if you wanted to talk.”

“A rather odd attitude.”

“Only to Vulcans. As humans it seems quite … well, not quite logical, but at least wise and expected.”

“I do not wish to talk. There is nothing to talk about. Nyota made her decision without considering all options, but identifying those options at this late a date only brings more pain.”

Jim nodded. “Humans have a saying, hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Spock looked puzzled, so Jim explained further. “It means that looking back at what happened it's easy to see the mistakes one made, to have perfect vision. On the one hand, that makes it easier not to repeat those mistakes in the future, but, on the other hand, over thinking things just makes you guilty, angry, and it hurts.”

“Yes,” Spock said, his dawning understanding audible. “How does one get past this guilt and anger?”

Jim thought about the question for a bit, but didn't suddenly find an answer that made verbal sense. “I'm not sure I can explain. It's just something you learn to do. Either that, or you go mad.”

“I had hoped ...” Spock's voice trailed off in unusual uncertainty. “I believe I fear I am approaching the latter. I have found no balance and cannot seem to suppress these emotions in the Vulcan way.”

“Humans have long found that repressing emotion only works for so long before the damn breaks. We have to deal with them … and you are half human.”

“But I have no experience with 'dealing' with emotions.”

“Maybe ...” Jim hesitated. It was risky, and he wasn't entirely sure he was making the offer out of unselfish reasons. Well, damn it, Spock could always say no. “Maybe I could show you.”

“I do not understand.”

“I can't explain how to deal with emotions. It's something we humans learn over time. But I might be able to show you how I've learned to deal with it, if you meld with me.” Jim took a deep breath, trying not to show how fast his heart was pounding at the very thought. He suddenly wanted this, very badly, to feel that he was more than himself, to truly know he was not alone. “If you want ...”

“How do you know ...”

“On Delta Vega,” Jim said quickly.

“My other self melded with you?” Spock looked positively disturbed.

“Time crunch, or so he said,” Jim replied, shrugging. “It certainly proved to me that Vulcans do have emotions. I've never felt such grief.” His eyes teared up at the memory.

“It is very unusual for a Vulcan to meld with someone,” Spock said, his voice tight with some hidden emotion. “Perhaps you do not comprehend how personal and intimate such a connection is considered.”

“I do,” Jim corrected. “Or at least I believe I do. I think the Ambassador chose a mind meld because he felt he already knew me … he was friends with his Jim Kirk for a long time.”

“Do not suggest such a thing just because they were friends,” Spock snapped.

“No,” Jim cut in, touching Spock's arm, ignoring his first's flinch. “You have become my friend on your own merits. The Ambassador may have pointed me in the right direction, but we chose to take the walk ...” Jim trailed off as he realized he was babbling. “Let me try that again. Your friendship means a great deal to me. Humans would say you're like a brother, except I wouldn't offer to do this for _my_ brother. I wouldn't let just anyone poke around my mind, but I trust you, and I want to help.”

Spock's stoic look was closer to a frown than any other expression, so Jim assumed he had failed in his attempt to explain. The longer the silence lasted, the more he was convinced of his failure. He was about read to turn and walk out when Spock's hand slowly reached out to grasp Jim's.

“If you will permit …?” Spock said hesitantly, his free hand slowly reaching up towards Jim's face.

Jim nodded, his eyes locked with Spock's as the inhumanly warm hand gently pressed against his face.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.” Spock spoke the words that Jim had heard on Delta Vega, but this time he felt his lips shaping the words in echo.

The feeling of another's presence filled his mind, warmth rising within, growing brighter and stronger like the sun rising at dawn and warming the world. For a moment all he wanted to do was bask in that sensation, savor the feeling of not being alone, but a questioning feeling drew him back to his purpose. Thinking back, he drew up the memories of how he'd felt when Kathlin told him, his reactions, and how he'd come to terms in time. It required drawing up some of his darkest memories, but in sharing them he felt relief, and he shared that too.

A small part of him feared rejection, but before he even had a chance to fully recognize that fear it was brushed away with acceptance, with encouragement, with amazement. For a moment he not only wasn't alone, he was them. The Vulcan desert was as familiar as the Iowa grasslands. Logic and emotion merged and danced. The one thing that did not change, was not mixed, was that the Enterprise was home.

Jim didn't know how long that lasted, but eventually them became him, and the inhuman warmth of Spock's fingers left his face, only the echo of sensation lingering.

Alone inside his mind he was embarrassed by how far he'd let his walls down, by just how much he'd admitted to. Being alone hurt after the fullness of being together.

Spock must have seen it in his face, or perhaps after being so close he didn't have to and just knew. Before Jim could look away he felt Spock's grip on his hand tighten and there was this pulse of reassurance, of gratitude.

“Thank you,” Spock said softly. “I believe I understand better now.”

“I'm glad I could help,” Jim replied, smiling and meaning every word. “I think I'll lie down now. That was ...”

“Mind melds can be very exhausting, even for those well trained and experienced in their uses.” Spock released Jim's hand.

“Good night,” Jim said, turning towards the door. He only had time to take two steps before Spock spoke again.

“Perhaps tomorrow you would come by my quarters after dinner for a game of 3-D chess.”

Jim looked back over his shoulder. “I'd like that.”

“I will see you then, Jim.”

Jim couldn't miss the hint of laughter in Spock's eyes and he grinned back.


End file.
